


Failure is Not an Option

by NataliePhoenix



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: based around brick, enjolras doesn't care about gender norms, femjolras, fits into canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-06
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-28 15:26:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/993519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NataliePhoenix/pseuds/NataliePhoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Madame Enjolras doesn't think it should matter that she's a women, the words she has to say are still important and France still needs a lot of change. The world disagrees. Still it's not enough to stop her--if France refuses to listen to her she'll find another way to lead a revolution, no matter what the toll it could take on her own life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is built off of the idea that Enjolras is often described in the novel as looking very feminine, which brought me to the ideas of what if he actually was female? Women weren't exactly listened to equally back then, though as you can probably imagine Enjolras would never let a thing like that stop her. I am not saying in the slightest that this is canon even though it's written to fit neatly into the canon story, but simply playing around with the idea. I didn't change the name as it's a last name so that's unnecessary.

“This world we live in is brimming with injustice, breathing in the nature of slavery that’s working against each and every person that lives here besides the utmost rich! There’s nothing there for the poor, and no way to get to the top. All there is is pain, misery for those at the bottom. And it’s always going to stay like this too, with such a distinct upper and lower class, unless we speak up against it! Show what’s on our mind! Speak out against this injustice and make a difference!” Enjolras shouts over the crowd around her, standing on top of a group of boxes that bring her above the crowd of people milling about. She pumps her fist into her air, filled with enthusiasm and anger. She’s so completely done with this, with being ignored with all of her truths. There are a few who look up in her direction, before quickly steering their attention back to the ground. They know her words are true, she knows they do, but they won’t give her more than a few seconds’ head. It’s as if they’re incapable of listening to her just because she’s a girl. Oh, maybe her words hit their heart, but, no; upon turning their eyes up and seeing her feminine features every word she says becomes meaningless, since it’s not her place to talk of such things. That’s men’s business. It’s infuriating.

“Hey, blondie!” someone calls out from the crowd, a wolf whistle upon their lips. At the sound of him, Enjolras is convinced that she won’t reply, and simply twists her knuckles into tighter fists.

“Everyone, listen! Isn’t it time that we stand up for our rights? Let’s start off the fight that will give us the right to be free!” she calls, trying to attract others attention besides the one probably drunk man who’s now standing at the foot of the area, grinning like some over excitable hyena. “In these times, everyone sits in their beds starving, men and women alike, young and old. Meanwhile, those with the profit sit upon their fountains of gold and stuff themselves without a second thought. Equality, my friends, equality is what we need!”

“Blondie, why don’t you get back to the kitchen?” the guy howls, bringing his hands up to his mouth to aim the words more directly at her. “Go home, girl; no one wants to hear from you! It’s not your place!”

Enjolras growls in frustration, glaring down at him but forcing her attention to not be focused on him. She’s used to putting up with jerks like him, every time, in her fight for equality that’s so completely ignored.

“She’s treated just as unfairly by this monarchy as the rest of you, perhaps even more. Why shouldn’t she be able to speak out?” An unfamiliar voice shouts out, for once warm in her direction and in her defense. She doesn’t need anyone to defend her, as she can manage herself just fine, but it is nice to know that there’s someone listening out there and actually listening to her words, despite her gender. “This world is ready for change, and just needs those who are willing to grab it!” Enjolras directions her attention to this new speaker, looking him over. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a well-mannered outfit, glasses resting on the crook of his nose as he glares at the other man who had been talking earlier. In all manners, he looks like a severe school teacher.

Enjolras then looks toward the large clock visible from her perch, seeing that it has nearly struck four in the afternoon. There’s a policeman who comes around at that time, and it always creates complications to run into him. Enjolras slips down from her perch and lands beside the new professor-like man. He can’t be a professor, though, for he’s much too young, about the same age as Enjolras is herself.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to call you down.” The man dips his hat in greeting. “I’m Combeferre, and who is the one with all the promising dreams?”

“Enjolras,” Enjolras greets, a faint smile upon her lips. “It’s alright, there are some police who come around in a few moments who I’d rather not have a run-in with. I can’t change much from behind bars from the situation I’m in. Lovely to make your acquaintance.”

“As it is with you,” Combeferre responds, returning the smile. “Would you like to go out for drinks?”

“No, sorry, I don’t date,” Enjolras replied stiffly, suddenly realizing that he may not be interested at all with her plans for freedom, and instead just be trying to get her into his bed.

“Oh, of course not, I would never suggest something like that,” Combeferre waved off, shaking his head. “You miss my meaning. Go and get tea or coffee or something and discuss your plans and your goal of equality.”

“Oh yes, I’d love to,” Enjolras responded, surprised into a small laugh. “Sorry, I’ve had to deal with a lack of interest for my cause for quite awhile now.”

“I don’t see why, it’s something that France needs desperately,” Combeferre murmurs, beginning to lead the two of them over to a small cafe that Enjolras catches the name of ‘Musain’ on a sign in front. “You seem like quite the leader for the task, as well. I’ve always been very open to bringing change around but have never known how to go about it.”

“Thank you,” Enjolras mutters, taking a seat in a corner of the Musain cafe without further hesitation. “Well, in order to make a serious impact, we first would have to get together a group of willing participants who are set upon the task, a loyal group ready to dethrone the king. Then we must get the weight of the people’s rally on our side, get them pumped to rise up against the monarchy and input a new government system. Then, I imagine, we must start the revolution, rise up against the monarchy. There could be barricades or other lines of defenses, but that all depends on how much gun power we’ll have, along with participants.”

“Sounds like a strong enough plan to start from,” Combeferre murmurs, nodding. “You said ‘we’ when describing it, though.”

“Did I? Sorry, didn’t mean to jump to conclusions,” Enjolras answers, thinking back on her words and realizing that he is indeed correct. “It is entirely up to you whether you’re willing to join me in this fight for equality.”

“Enjolras, my friend, I am willing to follow you on this path till the end,” Combeferre assures her, grinning. “Down with the monarchy.”


	2. Chapter 2

Enjolras is in a completely different mindset when she arrives at home the following night. She’s finally found herself a participant in the cause, and instead of relaxing with the knowledge that there’s someone to help her balance her work, she’s instead jumped a level of enthusiasm, feeling as though she has much more to do now since the expectation of another person is riding on her back. There are so many things to do to get towards her goal, and one main thing in her way--well besides the monarchy itself--is the fact that she’s female. It’s never been something that she’s disliked about herself, mostly because it’s something that shouldn’t matter--she has a bosom instead of a penis; what else is really different? Nothing. Or that’s how it should be. The other difference is how people look at her, what they believe should be different. It’s all in their heads, where they assume that all men are superior and women don’t have the brainpower to concern themselves with anything that lies out of the household tasks. Has it ever crossed their minds that their close-mindedness proves that they are capable of less than her? They apparently can’t see change taking place, and it’s people like that who have kept France and the world from progressing towards freedom.

Enjolras has reached the point where she’s completely done with all of the unfairness being female has offered her. And honestly, she’s not sure why she hasn’t snapped before now. But this is it, as she stomps up into her room. She’s so done with how the world sees her that she’s going to change that entirely. She’s had the thought before now, but has just believed it to be a waste of time. It sort of felt like giving in a little bit, admitting she can’t accomplish anything when the public saw her in a certain light. But she has accomplished something, come up with a willing person to be part of the rebellion in her current state. She has been able to accomplish that as a ‘she,’ and now she has to go further, bringing the rest of France to the point where they can trust her and are willing to be part of her rebellion.

Because she’s thought about doing this in the past. Enjolras has everything she needs to make herself look like she was born with masculine body parts. She walks up into her bedroom, throwing aside her red coat, and unbuttons her blouse. She reaches into her dresser and pulls out a soft, folded cloth, before wrapping it around her bosom, the forgiving fabric pressing her breasts into the rest of her body until it looks like they’re no longer there. She then puts her clothing back on and marches to the fireplace. There, she presses a finger into the soot before raising it once again to her face and touching it upon her eyebrows, slightly darkening the golden hairs that rest upon her brow. She moves to the mirror and turns before it, satisfied that she looks enough like a man.

Then she turns to leave her room once again. She wants to test and see if other people will be fooled so easily. Stepping out of her room, she nearly runs into her mother, who is opening Enjolras’s door with an arm full of laundry.

“My god, Enjolras, what have you done to yourself?” she exclaims upon catching sight of her daughter.

“Nothing to worry about, Mother,” Enjolras responds crisply, trying to slide by before her mother brings a hand to her shoulder and stopped her.

“Don’t tell me this is part of your rebellious plans of treachery,” she growls in an undertone, bringing her face closer so there’s less than an inch between her ear and Enjolras’s. “It’s not suitable, for a woman of your standards to be--”

“To be what, exactly? I am attempting to gain the rights of me and my people, and I’m not about to let anyone stop me, even my own flesh and blood,” Enjolras hisses, her fists tightening. She’s had this conversation with her family before, several times over, but they never seem to be able to get it into their thick heads that this is her choice and they can’t stop her. Besides, this is what’s right. Enjolras has known what she’s meant to do from the moment she knew how to string words together--to help create a just, equal government for people to live under. To her, that’s the ultimate goal, the greatest success. If she can manage to even get close to that, she’ll consider her life worthwhile. However, every force known to her life seems to be convinced it’s their job to personally stop her from completing such a goal.

“You are a lady and I am your mother!” She draws out the syllables of the last words and Enjolras always feels the itching need to move. There are better things she could be doing then having a conversation like this again. She could be off changing the world! “You can’t talk to me like this, and you certainly can’t dress like this. What have you even done to your bosom, child?”

“This is my body, and I can dress it how I wish,” Enjolras asserts curtly, drawing herself up. This right here, under the very roof that she considers home, is exactly one of the types of treatment towards women that she’s fighting against, trying to rid from the world. She hasn’t even tried to work on those politics, though, as no one even manages to take her seriously on the views that don’t concentrate on the fact that everyone sees her as inferior. “If you are going to speak to me in the way that you do, I’m only defending myself in replying in such a manner. You know what I’m managing, Mother? I’m managing to show that I’m not simply a young lady the way you claim, but I am a human being, one that is just as capable of shaping the world as any other man. I’m going to change the way France is run, Mother,\\. I’m going to give power to both the poor and the rich, and see how things get better.”

She reached forwards and grabbed Enjolras’s wrist, pulling her in. “You are a lady! You do as you’re told! If you don’t accept this fact, my child, you are going to get very hurt by the world you live in!”

“You’re wrong,” Enjolras hisses, jerking away. She’s done with her flesh and blood having no trust in her endeavors. Fine, she doesn’t need them. The only reason she even still lives with her parents is because her mother insists that it’s not safe for a lady to live in her own flat without a man friend. “I’ll prove it to you, as well. I’ll be fine. And that hardly matters; if I get Paris to its feet, give everyone a better life.”

“You won’t give the King a better life, the way you’re going about it,” Mother insists, her eyes narrowed as she meets mine.

“Let the King be damned,” Enjolras’s response is. “France would never be in such a mess if he took care of all of his citizens.”

“Don’t you dare say such a thing! You have benefited in your life much more then you will ever know!”

“And more people have suffered just as much because of it! I’m not saying that his choices haven’t been in my favor, but the entire city is another story altogether. It’s not fair or just! The poor don’t have a voice, so I’m willing to give them one--more than willing.”

“Enjolras, this is your very last warning,” her Mother snaps, holding out a finger and pushing it into the place in her chest where she’s wrapped up her breasts. “If you do not stop this talk and go and get into a proper lady’s clothing, you shall consider yourself no longer part of this family, and definitely not someone who belongs under this roof top. You have your choice, young miss.”

“Then I’ll take it, and you’ll regret ever giving me such an option,” Enjolras answers venomously, drawing herself up to her full height, which has always been taller than most--including her mother. “You shall see what I can accomplish, how I will make this city a more hospitable dwelling!”

“Pack your clothes and get out,” Mother growls, turning around and refusing to face her daughter for supposedly the last time. “No daughter of mine will dress like a man.”

Enjolras doesn’t respond in words, but instead brushes past back into her room. She hurriedly packs, snatching up all the possessions she’s sure she’ll need--mostly clothing. She leaves plenty of room in her food case, and manages to stuff it full before leaving. She has no way of knowing where her next meal will come from. Her minds reeling the entire time, fumes billowing around her thoughts. So this is it? The breaking point for her mother? Surely dressing like a man is nothing much to squabble over, much less kick a family member out of the house for. Fine, she can be like that. Enjolras has always had the mind to leave as soon as she could, anyways--this is the very prompt that she needs to do so.

It’s not until she’s out on the street that she realizes that she really doesn’t have a place to stay during the night. During the daytime, she shouldn’t have a problem; she spends most of her time out of the house anyways. Enjolras doesn’t have any friends, not really. She puts so much of her effort into the revolution that, despite the way that it hasn’t even left the ground, it consumes all of her thoughts and time. Because of this, such trivialities as friends have escaped her life. Maybe she’s had some at some point, but none that even stick to her memory. Suddenly, the answer strikes her--it’s the obviou,s and she’s not quite sure why she didn’t think of it before. There is a chance he won’t be willing, as he’s nearly a stranger to Enjolras, but she’s sure that he was the only person she really knows and trusts--Combeferre. She’s planning on meeting at his house about the revolt soon, anyways, so she might as well ask him then.

She immediately starts on her way towards his house. The walk isn’t very long, so she finds herself on his doorstep within minutes. He lives in a flat, apparently alone. She steps up into the building and is quickly knocking on his door.

“Enjolras? Sorry, wasn’t expecting you so soon. Please come in, take a seat,” Combeferre answers the door, beckoning her inside the warmly lit flat. After Enjolras enters, she hears the small click of Combeferre closing the door behind her, before he returns to where he was apparently cooking the meal he had promised Enjolras earlier.

“Sorry I’m so early, I wasn’t expecting to be,” Enjolras apologizes, tentatively walking forwards and taking a seat in an armchair positioned a few steps away from the door. The flat is small, and from what isn’t hidden by the walls, there’s a living space immediately upon entering, and beyond that is a small kitchenette where Combeferre’s currently working.

“Not a problem, Enjolras,” Combeferre assures her, waving off her words. It strikes her that he hasn’t commented on her new look, and she fears that maybe it’s too subtle and she still looks just as much like a lady as before. “It’s a pleasure to have you, and I’m glad you came. Dinner may take another minute, though.”

“Thank you,” Enjolras murmurs, relaxing slightly into the comfort of her chair. “And I’m sorry to be a bother, but if it’s alright, I’d like to ask one more favor.”

“Ask away, friend,” Combeferre insists, his back turned to her as he retrieves something from the oven.

“Well you see, I’ve been working on this revolution for awhile now, but my family has never approved of it,” she starts uncomfortably. It dawns on her how much of a stretch this is to be asking. Still, she has little choice but to press on. “You may have not noticed, but today I’ve tried to conceal my gender in hopes that I can give the revolution the attention that it needs. That was the final straw for my dear mother, so now I have no home to spend the night at. If I could, I’d really appreciate being able to spend the night here, if only for tonight. I can help pay for rent too.”

“Should not be a problem,” Combeferre promises, a smile upon his features. “Just so you know, I could tell before, but found it unnecessary to mention. I still recognize you, but it’s clear enough what you are trying to do, as you’ve achieved it. It’s so unfair that no one seems to be able to listen to you because of your gender. The world shouldn’t be like that; you obviously have much more brains than most everyone who ignores you. Yet still they believe you’re somehow inferior. I’m happy to help your cause further in this manner. I can set up the couch for you.”

“Thank you; you’re most generous, Combeferre,” Enjolras nods, finding herself smiling at the kind hearted man.

“It’s nothing, really,” Combeferre laughs off. “Would you prefer if I continued to refer to you as lady or a man?”

“Honestly I don’t really care as long as no one is near. When we do have company though, I imagine it would be best if we do not allow others to suspect who I truly am.”

“Very well. Tonight, we can plan for the new world, and tomorrow we can act on it. There’s another friend I know who may be very valuable in the revolution, but I suspect we’ll be able to round up our own recruits if we put our minds to it.”

“Indeed,” Enjolras says, confident she’s where she needs to be.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies as I wasn't able to bring in the ships that reviewers asked for after the last chapter-unfortunately the entire fic, as short as it is, was already completed, so it only has the ships I mentioned in the first chapter's author's comment. Also I do touch upon Enjolras immediately assuming that Grantaire is straight in this chapter-as you will see-but I want to clarify that the reason I do this is because in their time it just won't cross her mind that he has a different orientation. Anyways, enjoy the last chapter and I'm sorry it was so short-it was a pleasure to write.

Enjolras sleeps better than she expects the following night, the couch being surprisingly comfortable. She’s unable to tell through her confused mind if she feels more free or upset from being shoved from her home. Time will tell. In the meantime, she can hope it’ll feel better. She rises before Combeferre, before the sun has even fully shown its face. It’s nothing that’s unusual, as this is generally when she gets up.

She doesn’t even need a minute to try and figure out where she is. The early morning hours are hers, and they always have been--her mind is in top condition. She makes herself a cup of coffee before throwing herself upon her books, positioning herself at a small desk tucked away in the corner. It’s safe to assume it’s Combeferre’s, but he hasn’t risen yet, so she feels comfortable there, not disturbing any of his things, of course. She quickly returns her items that make her look male, before turning to her work. The pile of books are from classes, of course, which unfortunately divide her time from the obviously more important thing--working to free the people. These early hours are generally when she manages to take care of school work, even though admittedly it has less priority when her potential revolution needs her. She buries herself so deeply into her work that she doesn’t notice Combeferre rise until he’s pouring himself his own cup of coffee. She’s used to the morning just being hers, no one bothering to get up--but this intrusion is something she can’t avoid, as she’s a guest in his house.

“Oh, good morning,” Enjolras greets, glancing over towards him, before sweeping up her papers and books into one big pile, intending to bring it back into her bag she had brought over. “Sorry about using your desk, I was just getting some work done before you got up.”

“It is no problem, feel free to continue working there,” Combeferre yawns, his glasses nearly slipping off his nose, his hair a tussle from sleeping on it. “You make an excellent cup of coffee. So, you are a student, then? When are your classes?”

“Mostly in the mornings,” she reveals, bringing her things back out to continue working. “They are all completed by noon. I shall probably do my usual rounds for recruiting afterwards.”

“If it is alright, you could come back here and I can introduce you to a friend of mine. His name is Courfeyrac, and I do not doubt he shall be overly eager to help out in the cause. If you are willing, he shall come over here and we can have lunch and discuss plans,” Combeferre offers, smiling fondly in Enjolras’s direction. He truly has been such a priceless friend in the little time that Enjolras has known him, and she’s positive that the two of them have the potential to someday be unspeakably close. “I understand if another day works better, though.”

“No, that would be perfect. Thank you, Combeferre,” Enjolras responds, clear enthusiasm pulsing through her voice. “And again, thank you for listening to reason and the need for equality. And, er, thank you for allowing me to stay here.”

“My utmost pleasure, Enjolras,” he replies, beaming. “Did you sleep well? Very good.” Combeferre then proceeds to sit down on his rocking chair and take out his own school bag, sorting through the things and beginning to work in silence. Enjolras turns back to her own homework, quickly falling into the world of productivity. The two of them sit like that until they both leave for classes, finding that they are going to exactly the same place after all.

* * *

 

When they return, it’s with another jolly-looking figure that they picked up at the college.. Immediately upon meeting, Combeferre introduces the rather stout fellow as Courfeyrac, his good friend. Enjolras returns the gesture, shaking hands with him, before they turn to start properly talking over lunch.

“You see. the system is currently completely corrupt, thrown into the point where the clarity between the rich and poor is so massive that it’s a matter of living versus barely surviving,” Enjolras is explaining as they enter the flat, showing her complete enthusiasm with large hand gestures. Really, she can hardly believe that he’s so enraptured in her words, spell bound in her dream. She’s never had any attention for her cause before Combeferre, and seeing how quickly she’s brought in another revolutionary is fantastic. It’s more than fantastic, really; she can hardly describe how it makes her heart pound in such happiness, to the point where she’s completely forgotten that she’s just met these two men and has no home but what Combeferre has offered. She honestly couldn’t be any happier unless the monarchy was falling at her feet that very moment.

“I completely agree!” Courfeyrac responds, nodding energetically, his black curls bouncing on the top of his head. “The current government situation is tearing apart the population, and change needs to come!”

“So you are willing to join in the cause, my friend?” Enjolras asks eagerly, unwilling to hide her complete enthusiasm at this idea.

“More than willing,” Courfeyrac answers, grinning from cheek to cheek.

“Right this way, gentlemen,” Combeferre announces, bringing them through the door and into his flat. He offers for them to both take a seat, before turning to the kitchen and proceeding to make lunch.

“We shall need even more who are committed to our cause before we can make our final strike. But when we do--” Enjolras pauses, looking up into Courfeyrac’s face to be sure that her audience remains just as spellbound. She’s surprised to see that the man before him looks even more eager to hear her words. “We shall need to strike forth in a way that can not be ignored, one that can turn the entirety of France up right to where it should be.”

“Most definitely,” Courfeyrac agrees, his head once again bouncing up and down. “I have a large amount of friends who may be interested. I could ask around, see who would be willing to overthrow the King--most of whom I am confident will. It may take a bit of time, though; I can contact you when you I am finished.”

“That would be perfect,” Enjolras dips her head in response, smiling almost as broadly as the fellow beside her. “Thank you, Courfeyrac.”

* * *

 

Enjolras heaves herself into her own bed, exhausted and, she lays there for a few moments, closing her eyes, knowing she has no time to sleep. That’s just how things have worked out--she never has proper time to rest. It’s alright, though; she’s where he wants to be. She has established herself her own flat, in the same building as Combeferre. But that’s not what makes Enjolras so completely happy--and exhausted. Her revolutionary group has taken off--calling themselves the Friends of the ABC. They’re a fine group of young men who all believe in the same cause--most even willing to die for it. They haven’t done anything major yet, but plans have been made, and she’s sure that when the time is right, they will be the spark to call forth a full blown revolution. She’s even managed to get a political official involved, one who’s willing to help them from the inside: Lamarque.

She’s however surprised to hear a sharp knock upon her door. It’s rare that anyone visits her in the flat besides Combeferre, and she knows for a fact that he has a lesson currently. Still, she heaves herself up from her bed and walks over to the door, opening it to reveal her visitor.

“Mother?” Enjolras gasps, blinking in surprise. Before her stands the slightly plump, pink-faced woman who raised Enjolras from a crib. Raised her, before kicking her to the streets.

“Enjolras, dear,” she murmurs in greeting, looking even more flustered. It takes Enjolras a moment, however, to figure out that she’s embarrassed by the situation, awkward about returning to see her child who she so wrongly disowned. “I--I came to say that I am sorry for what happened before. It was wrong of me to force you out like that. We can both be reasonable people, I’m sure. I miss you, dear.”

“Thank you for saying so,” Enjolras replies stiffly, unsure what to say. She’s missed her family as well, but she has felt better here on her own, unlimited. “I have missed you. However, I’m quite happy here--I think going off on my own is just what I needed. I am on my way to bringing about the revolution, and I now have many friends who stand with me. This is my home here, and I’m reluctant to leave. Still, I would much rather be able to see you and the rest of my family every so often--stay on friendly terms.”

“Yes, I suppose that is fair,” she responds, her lips pursed and showing her unwillingness. “I shall still miss you, my child.”

“Of course, Mother, but now we will stay in touch,” Enjolras says. “But if you can forgive me, I have a meeting to attend and lead momentarily, and must prepare myself. I shall come calling soon, I promise.”

“Alright, goodbye, Enjolras,” she answers, slightly bitterly but a slight smile still on her lips. “Goodbye.”

* * *

 

Time passes far faster than Enjolras even cares for, as she uses every moment of it to full advantage, wishing for even just another collection of seconds to use. Still, she gets much more done in everything she cares about then she’s managed in past years. She’s on her way to a revolution now, she’s sure of that--with eight main friends involved besides herself, along with many other citizens willing to rise up. The day to uprise is drawing near.

“...Our time is nearly upon us, for we are nearly ready to strike upon the world--showing everyone how change is a necessary element for France,” Enjolras calls over the crowd, beckoning them into an overly crowded table, her words ringing over the entire part of the cafe. Here, they can all talk to each other about overthrowing the current government and social structure without fear; here is where they make progress. “Best to ready our supplies soon as we can, make a storage of arms. Really, at this point, the thing we need is a definite date.” With these words, Enjolras sits down. She’s been talking all night and has grown weary. Instead of continuing her speech, she glances around the room, her eyes flitting about her companions. All of them are eagerly discussing their next moves, putting forth philosophy on what the new world should look like once they’re brought down what currently stands. No, not all. There is still one that sit back from the rest of them, his mouth as still as his eyes that are pinned to her, dulled by alcohol. She locks upon those eyes without realizing it, and for a moment the two of them are frozen in each other’s gaze. She looks away, instead forcing her attention back on the conversation. She can’t be sure, but his stare reminds her very much of men in the past who have tried to woo her. The very idea is infuriating. Does he know her secret? Believe her to be female? Despite Enjolras’s trust in most of the men before her, she hasn’t revealed her secret to anyone save Combeferre. Her eyes then drift to Combeferre, who’s sitting beside her, pulling back from his own conversation to take a breath.

“Combeferre,” Enjolras murmurs into her friend’s ear, leaning forwards so only Combeferre’s the one to hear.

“Hm?”

“That new recruit--Grantaire, I think his name was--I think he somehow knows my secret,” she hisses, trying to not look back into those wide, wine-filled pupils. “The way he looks at me... I think...” She pauses, finding the notion too silly to slip through her lips.

“R? He does seem to have a liking for you. No need to worry about him, my friend,” Combeferre assures her, a slight chuckle upon his lips that die away quickly. “Because, you see--it has nothing to do with your gender for him, it’s your words he loves, your energy and aim for triumph. And it is admirable, quite doubtlessly so.”

“Thank you, Combeferre,” Enjolras replies, finding her eyes trailing back up to rest back upon the drunkard who’s now focused upon his liquor. “Besides, I have no time or energy for any sort of thing besides the revolution. The time is nearly upon us, and our little lives won’t count at all.”

 


End file.
